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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379414">Hoist's Past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyTarkles/pseuds/TheOnlyTarkles'>TheOnlyTarkles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Comfort, Headcanon, Male Friendship, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:21:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyTarkles/pseuds/TheOnlyTarkles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The supportive medibot hardly ever speaks up about himself. Why is that?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hoist's Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This headcanon came to light as I was rewatching the Desertion of the Dinobots Part 1 and noted that Hoist freaking picked up Grimlock like he weighed NOTHING. After conversing with TheThreeofDiamonds about it, this is the result.</p><p>Hope you enjoy! Please do comment and let me know what you think. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Say, Hoist?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Grapple?” The green tow truck hummed, not looking up from his task of organizing the tools he’d be using for a check up with Red Alert later.</p><p> </p><p>Grapple was sitting on one of the empty tables in the room, sketching some new blueprints on a datapad as he sulked. Another one of his creations had been blown to rubble in the recent Decepticon attack and Hoist hadn’t wanted to leave him alone while he was in such a sorry state of mind. “What made you decide to enter the medical profession?” He asked, wiping some coolant stains off of his faceplate.</p><p> </p><p>The question took Hoist by surprise. It had certainly come out of nowhere, given that the crane truck had been throwing a pity party not long before. The doctor paused his organization and half-turned to look over at his friend. “What brought this question to light?” He inquired with mild astonishment.</p><p> </p><p>Grapple sighed and set the datapad down next to him, then leaned forward to brace his elbows on his thighs and prop his head in his hands. “I’m just thinking maybe I should look into a different profession.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you <span class="u">love</span> architecture!” Hoist exclaimed. “Why in Alpha Trion’s name would you give that up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because half the things I think up and get to create are destroyed almost as soon as they’re built, and the other half get rejected in the prototype phase,” the yellow mech whined. “Meanwhile, <span class="u">Wheeljack</span> gets to make whatever the slag he wants!”</p><p> </p><p>Ah. There it was. The sore spot. “That’s hardly a fair comparison, Grapple,” the tow truck pointed out. “He’s an engineer. That isn’t nearly the same as being an architect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it matter when he gets to make his weapons and I don’t get to make my art?” Grapple moped.</p><p> </p><p>Hoist sighed as he fixed his friend with a sympathetic expression. This comparative line of thinking wasn’t healthy. He’d have to do what he could to quell that as soon as possible. “Oh, Grapple… All right.” Hoist walked over to the table Grapple was on and had a seat on the side that wasn’t occupied by a loose datapad. Grapple would <span class="u">not</span> have thanked him if he’d accidentally broken it. “You really want to know why I became a medibot?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do,” his friend replied. “It may help me figure out what I should do about my dilemma.”</p><p> </p><p>“It may just,” Hoist agreed. He was silent for a moment, then decided to start with, “I chose the job out of spite.”</p><p> </p><p>A scoff came out of Grapple’s lips as a disbelieving smirk grew on them. “You’re pulling my leg.”</p><p> </p><p>“I promise, I’m not having you on. I really didn’t choose this profession for the right reasons.”</p><p> </p><p>The yellow mech gaped at him. “But you’re one of the most patient and kind-spirited bots I know!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you see, I grew into that with time,” Hoist explained. “I first started out as a professional wrestler, back when I was full of youth and vigor.”</p><p> </p><p>“You did not.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did,” he nodded. “I could tangle with the best of them, and frequently did. I had a stage name and everything. I look back fondly on those days, but all the attention really inflated my ego, I must say. I’m sure my friends found me insufferable sometimes, listening to my boasts. After some time, I’d gotten it into my head that it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. So on top of wrestling, I entered into the world of heavyweight lifting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Still not the medical field?” Grapple interrupted. “How long did it take you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Grapple, if I hadn’t been so angry, the thought of entering the medical field wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“No? What happened to get you so worked up?”</p><p> </p><p>Hoist turned his gaze away from Grapple and toward the line up of tools he’d gotten ready. “Well,” he started slowly, “one day I had decided to really put my strength to the test. Push the limits and see just what I could do. I, erm… decided that I should try hauling and bench-pressing a Guardian.”</p><p> </p><p>His friend stared at him with astonishment. “A G— Like Omega Supreme?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Hoist confirmed, still not looking at him. “It was a stupid and dangerous idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll say! Even if you managed to get one off the ground, they still weigh <span class="u">thousands</span> of metric tons!” Grapple exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>The green mech chuckled sadly. “Yes… Needless to say, it didn’t end well… I found a Guardian willing to participate in the event and gathered a crowd. I then pulled him from Point A to Point B with only <span class="u">some</span> difficulty. That… had really bolstered my confidence in my abilities.” He shook his head and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. “I managed to lift the Guardian off the ground and began the bench-press. It seemed all was going well until some of my gears in my arms locked up. And instead of calling for assistance or ending the event like a sensible mech, I tried to press on. My… My arms failed and gave out, dropping the Guardian on top of me.”</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his optics, Hoist saw Grapple lift a hand to cover his mouth as he stared at the tow truck in horror.</p><p> </p><p>He finally turned his head to look at the yellow mech beside him. “I awoke a week later in a medical centre. I didn’t need a <span class="u">complete</span> overhaul, blessedly, but most of my body had been in dire need of new parts. The medibot in charge of the operation—I won’t say his name. It’s not important—had done what he could with what he had available at the time. We were in the middle of a supply recession, so fresh parts were a hot commodity in the medical world.” Hoist lowered his optics to look at the tool in place of his right hand. “He was unable to completely restore me to the way I once was. I know I have no one to blame but myself, but… at the time I was <span class="u">furious</span> with him. After all, I could no longer perform and do what I enjoyed. It was so easy to just blame him for a shoddy job instead of myself for a lack of common sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still?” Grapple inquired softly, lowering his hand. “Hold him in contempt, I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no,” Hoist assured. “Absolutely not. Now that time and experience have unclouded my judgement, I actually appreciate that he kept me stable and online. He was no Ratchet by any stretch, but he did what he could.”</p><p> </p><p>The yellow mech was quiet for a moment as Hoist’s story so far sunk in before he finally said, “I’m glad it was him.”</p><p> </p><p>Hoist raised an optic ridge. “Oh? Why is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because if it was someone else, who knows if I’d even have my best friend by my side today?” He finished by giving Hoist a warm and radiant smile that the green bot felt to his very spark.</p><p> </p><p>Oh… What a sweet sentiment! Hoist beamed at him in return and reached up with his left hand to give Grapple’s shoulder a few touched pats, and the two of them sat in happy silence for half a minute before the crane truck broke it again.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, finish the story. How did you finally wind up in the medical field?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, right. I was very cross with my repair and the medibot who performed it. So I got the thought, ‘I’m going to become a medibot just so I can do a better job than him and <span class="u">prove</span> that the reason I’m like this is because he was lazy.’ As I said at the beginning, it was out of spite.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were a very self-centered bot back then,” Grapple observed.</p><p> </p><p>The tow truck nodded. “Very much. The thousands upon thousands of years that I spent studying medical practices and putting them to use really tempered my ego and made me into who I am today. So I very much have the same frame of mind as you, Grapple.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something else is bugging me, though, Hoist,” the crane truck admitted. “If you have all this power, why don’t you take on Megatron or the other Decepticons head on?”</p><p> </p><p>Hoist made a light-hearted scoffing noise. “Please, Grapple. I’m <span class="u">old</span> and I’ve had my time in the limelight. It’s time for the younger generation to shine and make their move. I’m more than content to be in the background and help keep them in fighting shape so they can do so.”</p><p> </p><p>The door suddenly opened, drawing their attention to it, and Red Alert stepped in.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Red!” Hoist exclaimed, checking the time within his visor. “Is it that time already? You’re prompt as usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“Punctuality is a virtue,” Red Alert stated matter-of-factly.</p><p> </p><p>“I very much agree.” The green mech got to his feet and turned to his friend. “Well, Grapple, did that story help?”</p><p> </p><p>The yellow bot nodded and stood up as well, grabbing the datapad beside him. “It did. Thank you very much, Hoist. I’ve decided that I’m going to continue pursuing architecture. One day my buildings will occupy most of Cybertron and bring happiness to any who behold them. I’ll start with the common populace. Perhaps rebuild the slums. One day, when the war is over, any homeless will be homeless no longer and they won’t have to stay in some rundown abandoned buildings.”</p><p> </p><p>There! Much better! It really did make him feel more at ease knowing his friend took comfort and got something from Hoist’s background. “That’s the spirit!” He encouraged.</p><p> </p><p>“I very much would like a home built by your hands, Grapple,” Red Alert chimed in. “Your buildings not only look elegant, but take the building code to new levels. I would feel safer in a home I know you built.”</p><p> </p><p>This absolutely appeared to raise Grapple’s spirits. The look he got on his faceplate was purely giddy. “Then you can count on me to build you the safest, most impregnable home I can muster! If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I feel a strong stroke of inspiration that must be acted upon!”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t let us keep you,” Hoist chuckled, watching his friend race out of the room before turning his attention back to Red Alert. “All right. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?”</p>
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